


Of Heart and Mind

by CoffeeQuill



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Prompt Fill, Reunions, Single Parents, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29931762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeQuill/pseuds/CoffeeQuill
Summary: You walked into my life like you had always lived there, like my heart was a home built just for you.--Series of prompts for Mandomera Week 2021.Day 3: Reunion
Relationships: Din Djarin/Omera
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41
Collections: Mandomera Week 2021





	1. Needle and Thread (Pining)

**Author's Note:**

> 7 days, 7 prompts, let's do it.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/coffee_quill)  
> My friends and I have a [Mandomera](https://discord.gg/CHcbS6W4zM) discord server!

**Day 1: Pining**

“I can do it. Really.”

“Sure.”

But Omera ignored him, like she’d ignored him the last few times he insisted that he was capable of mending his own clothes. He’d been taught to be self-sufficient and being able to sew a hole in one of his shirts seemed one of the more basic skills. But Omera had gotten him the thread and simply started on it herself.

Din knew better than to try to wrestle a tiny needle out of a determined woman’s hands.

Instead they sat in her hut in quiet. Din let out a restless sigh and leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed. He turned to look out the doorway where the hut faced the village center, the children’s current area of play. They shrieked and jumped and chased each other about while the little one tried to keep up. But he was small and slower than them, almost comedic in the difference of size.

“We still aren’t sure how to thank you,” Omera said.

Din looked over at her. Her eyes were still focused on the needlework and he leaned to see that the threading of the current hole caused by blaster burn was near flawless.  _ Alright,  _ he thought.  _ Maybe it’s good she’s doing it.  _ He certainly didn’t have the dexterity or practice to make the thread sit so straight and perfect. “You don’t have to,” he said. “Letting us stay is enough.”

She looked up and smiled at him as she drew the needle away. “A roof over your head doesn’t seem equal to saving all our lives.”

“It is to me,” he said in a quiet voice.

Omera looked at him a little longer, her smile faded but the warmth still in her eyes as she nodded. Her gaze returned to the needle and she made another stitch, pulling it through. It was calming to watch -- she was swift and neat but didn’t rush. It was almost mesmerizing.

“You were taught to sew?” she asked. “Most boys don’t seem to be taught such.”

“All children are taught the same skills, for Mandalorians,” Din said. “Although, the girls seemed to have an easier time.”

“Smaller fingers,” Omera said with a smile. She pulled the thread through one last time, then cut and knotted off the thread. She lifted and turned his shirt over with one torn sleeve towards him, then twisted to grab something out of the sewing kit. She took out a needle and second black spool, careful in threading the needle -- on only her second try -- and tying it off before holding it out to him.

He reached out. She had the needle pinched carefully between two fingers and he took it in the same fashion, hands brushing. For a moment his breath hitched in his throat and he took a moment longer, being  _ sure  _ he had the needle safely in his hold. Omera just smiled. She didn’t pull away.

It felt like sparks.

He took the spool as well and reached for the sleeve. But she patted the seat on the bench beside her and for a moment, Din hesitated. He lifted himself and settled down next to her, keeping a respectful gap between them. She set the sleeve over his lap and began working on the last tear.

“Take your time,” she murmured. Her voice was so soft. “Keep your spacing tight. And breathe.” She smiled. “When it’s so simple, it clears your mind. Like cleaning a gun.”

Din turned his head to stare at her. Maker, he wanted to ask. Her capabilities with weaponry were an enigma some part of him  _ ached  _ to unravel. But instead he swallowed back his questions and adjusted the fabric in his hands to start. Perhaps his previous troubles with patchwork  _ had  _ been because he rushed. He started to repair it, slow to guide the needle through.

“Good,” Omera murmured.

They worked beside each other in silence. His stitches did come out straighter, closer together, rather than spaced and messy. He smiled to himself. Beside him, Omera was just as concentrated, her arm occasionally brushing his.

He held in a breath. He felt when she turned to look at him, and didn’t dare chance his own looks. Instead, he simply melted in her presence, and felt at peace.


	2. Deeper Moments (Trust)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He began to lift his hands but faltered and dropped them into his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/coffee_quill)  
> [Mandomera](https://discord.gg/CHcbS6W4zM) discord

It was the most valuable thing he could give.

The day was warm and the sun bright with a cool breeze to go with it. His stomach was alit with butterflies as they walked out to the field by the treeline, far enough for privacy but with the village in sight. Omera smiled at him as they walked until she stopped and laid down the blanket, making sure it was smoothed over the grass as much as possible before they sat.

Din watched, then was slow to settle on top of it. Omera toed her boots off to be able to fully sit on the blanket and he did the same, placing the basket full of lunch between them. They took it all out in silence until each section of food was plated and ready to be eaten -- cooked krill, steamed vegetables, meat of a native bird Din couldn’t remember the name of. Omera gave him another smile before beginning to spoon some food onto the plate in front of her, and Din watched in silence.

His heart pounded in his chest. He took a deep breath, willing his shaking hands to calm.

_Now. Now. Now._

“I don’t mind turning around,” Omera said in a gentle voice. She was so sweet and kind, _too_ kind, and too patient. Her brows had furrowed barely a second when Din first requested this, a lunch together out in the sun, a smile in his voice but thick with shyness. Then she had agreed and asked what he wanted to eat.

“No,” he whispered. He cleared his throat. “No.”

“Are you… eating?”

“I…”

He flexed his hands and made tight fists again. His heart really _was_ going. He shut his eyes as the anxiety rolled through him and he straightened his back as much as possible. He began to lift his hands but faltered and dropped them into his lap.

He’d thought on this for weeks since Fett dropped him off here. The older Mandalorian had even given his gruff approval of the idea -- not one for romantic moments, certainly, though it had sounded like he had an underlying appreciation for what it meant to Din. Fennec had been a bit more of a romantic, smirking fondly at Din as she gave her own approval. This was… good. This was growth. This was stepping out of his comfort zone in order to get something he _wanted._

Though what he wanted still required _this_ moment.

“Mando?”

“Din.”

“Din,” she said with a smile. That had been the first hurdle in and of itself; giving his name, even if ‘Mando’ was what he was used to responding to. Din was still an unfamiliar name out of the mouths of strangers. But he watched as she leaned forward, her focus completely on him. And her eyebrows had a slight raise. Knowing.

He tried to lift his hands again but they barely moved an inch before he let out a shaky breath. “Can you -- can you close your… eyes.”

Omera squeezed her eyes shut, nodding.

His hands shook. His throat went dry and his heart was not going to listen to his commands to calm down. But he finally lifted them to his head, grasping the beskar between, and he lifted…

Lifted it.

Omera’s eyes were still shut. He felt the breeze against his neck, slipping between the beskar and his clothing, and nearly shuddered. He lifted it higher and the breeze brushed against his chin. He lifted it off, and the sun was _bright._ Without his visor’s adjustments, he had to squeeze his own eyes shut, blinking, and the _sounds,_ it… was almost strange. He had to blink some more and give his eyes time to adjust. The outer sounds, the calls of birds and the distant, almost silent chatter of the villagers.

When everything had regained its color rather than the stark white of the sun, he drew in another breath. “Omera,” he whispered.

Omera looked up. She looked at him with eyes that slowly widened as she took in his face; he gulped and fought the urge to jam the helmet back on. He settled it between his legs instead, taking a long and deep breath, watching as her eyes roamed over his features. Her lips parted, letting out her own quiet breath, until she shifted closer and lifted her hand.

“May I…”

“Please,” he whispered.

She smiled and reached out, brushing the back of her fingers against his jaw, and he nearly shuddered at the gentle contact. He swallowed and shut his eyes, imagining the kid’s touch, _Grogu’s_ touch, and then…

Her hand shifted higher. It cupped his cheek, her thumb sliding up and over his cheekbone, just beneath his eye. He reached up to grab her wrist, squeezing his eyes shut as the tears began. He didn’t want to cry, _refused_ to cry, but a lump formed in his throat and he gripped her wrist tighter, unable to breathe, curling in on himself.

“Din,” she whispered.

“I want him _back.”_

His voice broke, a sob forcing its way from his throat all at once. Omera’s expression softened. “Honey,” she whispered, and closed the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders to pull him in.

He squeezed his eyes shut desperately, practically dragging her into his arms, as he buried his face in her shoulder. He sobbed into her clothes with more force than he’d thought he was capable of, his heart and chest and lungs and _everything_ aching. It felt as though his grief was pouring out of him all at once, everything he’d held back and in. Her fingers threaded into his hair. Her other hand rubbed up and down his back, light through his armor.

“I know.” Her cheek pressed against his temple. He couldn’t quite breathe, instead hiccuping through small gasps. “He was your son.”

“Why did I--”

“You were a parent,” she whispered. Her fingers stroked through his hair. “You gave him what he needed. He needed a teacher. You couldn’t give it.” Her hand paused, just at the nape of his neck. “One day, you’ll see him again. When he can control his powers. When you’re both ready for each other again.”

Another sob. He desperately wanted her words to be true, that one day he would see his kid again, that the choice to let the jedi walk away with Grogu would prove itself to have been the correct one. That this pain, these tears, would have been worth it to see his kid flourish.

“If he… he does -- _doesn’t.”_ Din took a shaky breath, willing his words to form around the lump in his throat. “See me again.”

“Do you think he would forget you?” she asked in a whisper. “He’ll always know who to thank for his life. He was hunted but he lives because of you. No one else could have done that, anyone else could have failed or given up or turned away.” She leaned back to look at him and he looked up with bleary eyes. She pressed a soft, delicate kiss to his forehead, and his eyes shut again as he held back his whimper. “The sacrifices you make as a parent -- the most crushing and the most rewarding.”

Din swallowed. He held onto her like she’d drift away otherwise. He buried his face again, taking deep breaths to calm himself, and she continued to stroke through his hair. He still trembled and wanted to scream out his grief, but this was enough, just holding her close. Having her understanding. Someone who could look past his shell and see _him._

“You’re very handsome,” she whispered.

He cracked a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/coffee_quill)  
> [Mandomera](https://discord.gg/CHcbS6W4zM) discord


	3. Planes and Passengers (Reunion)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Reunion - written in my executive AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/coffee_quill)  
> Mandomera [discord](https://discord.gg/CHcbS6W4zM)

The airport was loud. She preferred early arrivals, or late ones, really, when the airport seemed a bit quieter, a bit more peaceful. Instead she arrived home in the middle of the day when it was all busy and crowded, utterly exhausted. Her appearance was unkempt, hair a mess and she’d changed from respectful attire to essentially a sweatsuit and sneakers.

She longed for nothing more to be home.

Getting off the plane, walking to baggage claim, all felt a herculean effort. She threw out her fifth coffee of the day and rubbed at her eyes, walking with the rest of the passengers, until they finally reached the claim. The belt had yet to move. She rubbed at her eyes again and tried to blink them open as she crossed her arms to wait.

“Some day, huh?”

She turned and looked beside her. A man stood there, almost like Din in appearance though his hair was a lighter color and his features sharper. He smiled at her, dressed fine in a suit, and she recognized him as another in business class. “It’s been a day, yes,” she agreed.

“Is this home?”

She nodded. The buzzer for luggage sounded and the belt began to move. “Finally.”

He smiled. “Me, too. Only about a half hour -- Bunsen Borough.”

“Sorgan Borough.” She looked at him and smiled. “So close.”

“Funny coincidence.”

She looked down to her phone, glancing up occasionally for any signs of her suitcase. The man stood beside her, a comfortable distance away and yet still within her peripheral vision, rocking his weight back and forth as though wanting to say something more. She looked again over her texts from Din, the simple “I’ll pick you up.” and the later heart that he’d sent after their hour-long call before her flight. It could have gone longer if not for Grogu beginning a tantrum in the background and somehow she’d sensed, through the heart, his guilt at so hastily throwing out an “I love you, bye” before hanging up to take care of him.

A guilt she wished he didn’t feel -- the boy had to come before their silly romantic moments. His needs were of greater importance.

Finally, her dark blue suitcase came, distinguishable by the black flowers Winta had drawn on it in sharpie years ago. She nudged her way through the crowd with a soft “excuse me”, reaching out to pull it off the belt. She set it on the ground and pulled the handle, again looking down at her phone as she started towards the doors.

_ “Mama!” _

The loud call drew her attention and she looked just before getting an armful of her daughter. She smiled and wrapped an arm around Winta, holding her in snug, before pressing a kiss to her hair. “Hello,” she said, “Din’s with the car?”

Winta squeezed her harder in a hug, then pulled away and nodded with a bright smile. “Right out there! Can I pull it?”

“Yes, sure.”

Winta was more than happy to grab the suitcase handle and start walking towards the doors leading out. Omera smiled and followed. Outside, the air was warm and the wind blowing, Din’s car not difficult to spot -- the only black amongst blue, red, and white. As they approached, Din was quick to get out of the driver’s seat and come around. Grogu was in his arms, tearful and looking miserable. At the sight of Omera, he squirmed.

“Mama!”

He reached out for her and as Din came over, Omera immediately put her arms out. “He missed you,” Din said with a smile, transferring the boy over, and Grogu didn’t hesitate to cling to her the moment he made contact. He shoved his tearstained face against her neck, whimpering. As Din took the suitcase from Winta to put in the back, the boy was hiccuping and on the verge of further tears. The wails didn’t come, though, as she rubbed his back.

“M… mama,” he whimpered again.

“I’m here, love,” she said, smoothing her hand over his short curls as she bounced him. “Had a bad night, hm?”

His hand grabbed at both her hair and shirt. Din shut the trunk and Winta climbed into the back, the doors closing, before Din came over to them again. “Hey,” he murmured, and Omera smiled up at him.

“Hey.”

She reached up to grab at his shoulder but he’d already cupped her cheek in one hand, bending down to kiss her. She’d have his kisses all day, every day if she could, feeling his thumb brush across her cheek and the warmth poured into it. It’d only been about two weeks, she thought. Just fifteen days between their last kiss and this. But fifteen days had been an eternity.

_ “I  _ missed you,” Din said, leaning their foreheads together.

“You better have.”

“On second thought…”

Omera rolled her eyes and tugged him into another kiss before stepping towards the car. She opened the back door and carefully eased Grogu down into his carseat, though it only drew a whimper and a determined grip. “I’m here,” she murmured, gentle in wiping away his tears. “I’m not leaving you, sweetheart.”

The boy didn’t look accepting. Abandonment was only one of the horrors he’d endured before Din found him. But she pressed a kiss to his forehead and rubbed his arm in slow circles until slowly, he sniffled and let go, letting her buckle him into his seat. “Good boy,” she murmured, giving him another kiss. She shut the door and got into the passenger seat.

Din was already in his seat, glancing over his shoulder before easing out of their spot. “How was it?”

“Great.” Omera turned and gave Grogu a smile before reaching back to gently jostle his leg. He smiled back and she faced forward with a sigh.  _ “God,  _ exhausting, though.”

“Sounded like it.” Din looked at her with a smile. Then he reached out and grabbed her hand. He gave her a squeeze and Omera squeezed back, finally relaxing in her seat. The sound of the AC, the scent of Din’s car, Winta’s endless chatter about what Omera had missed and Grogu’s occasional bursts of chatter in response.

Good to be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/coffee_quill)  
> Mandomera [discord](https://discord.gg/CHcbS6W4zM)

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/coffee_quill)  
> [Mandomera](https://discord.gg/CHcbS6W4zM) discord


End file.
